Dazzler, eyes closed, belted out the crescendo of her low tempo rock song. The veins in her neck swelled with exertion as every ounce of oxygen left her body and, when she finally ended the note, the crowd went wild. As her band moved into the instrumental break of the song, she opened her eyes again, saw the crowd rocking out and grinned, happy they liked her new tune. Swinging her long blonde hair around, she grooved her way over to the lead guitarist, Tommy, who shook his pink mohawk about and made his axe wail with delight. She turned her smile to Kirk, who pounded the drums, then to Paul on bass, and then to Eddie who fleshed things out on rhythm guitar. Her grin grew wider as every chord and beat of the music sank deep beneath her skin and surged through her entire body. To say the feeling was electric was an understatement.
She danced back across the stage in her fitted white jumpsuit, her mirrored wrist cuffs sparkling as she clapped her hands in time to the beat. As she moved, she subtly released a little of her mutant energy, flaring lights over the band in time to the music, then she grabbed the mic, ready to sing another chorus.
“You won’t ever knock me down…” she sang, her vocals husky yet powerful, as Tommy’s guitar riffed in response. “I’ll always be around… If you try to break me down… I’m gonna take you out…”
As the song transitioned toward the outro, she scanned the dancing crowd before her. Erratic movement toward the back of the room caught her attention. She squinted against the spotlight to get a better look. It didn’t look like dancing.
“You won’t ever take me down!” she continued singing. “’Cause I’m here for the count!”
She made out that the erratic movement was a fight. A nasty one. There were three or four guys pummeling each other and parting the crowd like the Red Sea. She scanned the bar for security.
“I’ll run you to the ground…” she sang. “I’m here to claim my crown…”
Two doormen made their way through the crowd to the unruly mob. Dazzler counted at least seven involved now. There was no way the doormen were going to be able to control the rapidly escalating situation.
“Whoa-oh! You won’t ever take me down… You won’t ever!”
She closed her eyes and pooled the sonic energy inside her body. Rolling it through her arms and down into her palms, she shot out a burst of light.
“WHOA-OH!” she sang.
The room flared with brilliant white light, stunning everyone and making them collectively cover their eyes. She pulled her power back, then sent it out again in small sharp bursts of light. To those in the room it would look like shards of light reflecting off a mirror ball – or in this case, her mirrored wrist cuffs – only Dazzler aimed the shards of light with perfection at the brawlers, blinding them into submission. It was all the doormen needed to gain advantage over the men and start hauling the worst of them out of the bar.
She raised her right fist in victory, and she screamed the final note of the song that ended in time with the music. “WHOOOOOA-OH!”
The crowd erupted into cheers, whistles, and applause. Some even began chanting, “Dazzler! Dazzler! Dazzler!” She beamed and waved to the crowd.
“Thank you. You guys rocked tonight!” she said into the mic, and then she and the band gave the crowd an applause of their own.
“Let’s give it up one more time,” Benedict, the bar manager’s voice sounded over the speakers, “to Dazzler and the Casablancas!”
The crowd roared, the band gave one last wave, and then left the stage.
•••
Dazzler stepped off the stage to see Benedict standing with his hand raised ready to high five her.
“Great show, Dazz,” he said with his thick Cockney accent. “You rocked it, love!” Here in New York, Ben was a long way from home, but he’d spent most of his life traveling around as a roadie for many of rock music’s greats, names that left Dazzler in awe. This pokey little rock bar was his version of retirement.
“Thanks, Ben,” she said, high-fiving his waiting hand.
She made her way through the stage door, down the dimly lit corridor to the band’s tiny, minimally furnished dressing room, complete with graffitied walls and stained carpet, where she collapsed into a worn chair.
“That was awesome!” Tommy said, moving to a small tub full of bottled water and throwing one to Dazzler, which she caught.
“Did you see that fight breaking out at the back of the room?” Paul asked, as he stroked his goatee.
“No,” Dazzler lied, shaking her head, and then gulping her water.
Eddie slumped into the worn chair opposite Dazzler, tying back his sweaty, straggly long hair. “Man, I thought World War Three was about to break out.”
“Ah, security had it under control,” Tommy said.
“I couldn’t see anything from the drum riser,” Kirk said. “Those lights were blinding at the end. What was the lighting tech doing?”
“Who knows?” Dazzler shrugged, standing to grab her bag, which sat on the small dressing table before a cracked mirror. She pulled out a towel and patted the sweat from her face. Her waterproof makeup was holding well: the black of her eyeliner that made her blue eyes pop, the pale pink sheen of her lips, and the large glittery blue wing painted over her left eye, forehead, and cheekbone.
“Hey, you coming to Katy’s party?” Tommy asked her.
“Not tonight, guys,” Dazzler said.
“Why not?” Kirk asked.
“I promised myself a quiet weekend,” she said, strapping on her rollerblades.
“You’ll be missing out, Dazz…” Tommy teased.
“You can tell me all about it at our gig next weekend,” she said, hiking her bag over her shoulder. “Later.”
Dazzler exited the club and began rollerblading down the street, the lights of the tall Manhattan skyscrapers filling in for where the stars should be. The cold night air felt refreshing, as she was still warm from her performance, but she suspected she’d find it too cold soon enough and would be wanting a jacket.
Her mind ran over the gig, happy with how things went. She’d had so many starts and stops in her career, but it felt like her music was finally moving forward again. The bar tonight was small and run down, but it was an indie favorite, and if they could sell out that venue, which they did, they’d be moving on to bigger clubs and concert halls soon enough. The new band was solid and held real promise. She felt bad lying to them about the stage lights, but she wasn’t ready to let them in on that part of her life just yet. From what she could tell they were all humans, and until she knew how they felt about mutants, she didn’t want to blow a good thing.
Normally she would’ve gone to the party with them, but tonight was no ordinary night. And that was something she wasn’t ready to share with her bandmates yet, either. Besides, the band was on a high from the gig, and she didn’t want to kill their vibe. Today was the anniversary of something very personal that always made Dazzler melancholy: the day her mother walked out on her and her father when she was just a child. Ever since it had happened, for whatever reason, Dazzler preferred to be alone on this day. Gigs were the only exception. So, as was her tradition, all she wanted to do was go home, curl up in bed, and cocoon herself from her feelings.
A black SUV with tinted windows suddenly pulled onto the sidewalk right in front of her, forcing her to brake abruptly on her rollerblades and jolting her out of her musings.
“Hey, you jerk!” she yelled.
The rear door opened, and a black man in his thirties, dressed in a smart suit, white shirt, and black tie, stepped out.
“You wanna look where you’re going?” Dazzler berated him. “You almost cleaned me up!”
“No, we didn’t, Alison Blaire. Your reflexes are too sharp for that,” he said.
Her body stilled. Dazzler went by her stage name these days. No one called her Alison anymore and hadn’t for a long time. But he knew her real name.
“Who are you?” she asked, eyeing him and the car.
“My name is Markis Bennett,” he said. “I need a word with you.” His eyes darted to a couple walking hand in hand along the sidewalk, who paused to glance at both them and the SUV. “In private,” Bennett added, motioning to the vehicle.
“Yeah, I don’t think so, buddy,” Dazzler said, hiking her bag higher over her shoulder as she began to rollerblade around him and the car.
He moved to intercept her, cutting off her path. “I work for S.H.I.E.L.D.,” he said quickly, quietly.
She halted again, then rolled backward, putting some distance between them. “No, you don’t. S.H.I.E.L.D. has been disbanded.”
“Things change,” he said, eyes deadly serious. “And we need your help.”
Dazzler stared at him for a moment, then laughed sardonically. “Yeah, right.” Her face hardened. “Get out of here, before I make you disappear.” She turned and continued blading past the car, along the sidewalk, and away from Bennett.
“I understand your reservations,” he said, following her on foot as the SUV reversed and began to tail them along the street.
“My reservations?” She spun around on her blades, braking suddenly, and looked at him. “I have no reservations at all. I want nothing to do with you. S.H.I.E.L.D. is dead and buried to me. You want help, go find some other sucker you can use. You’ll get no help from me.” She bladed off again.
“Not even to help your father?” he called after her.
Dazzler rolled onward as the words sank in, before she slowed to a stop.
Did he say her father?
She heard the low rumble of the SUV idling beside her on the street, then the scratching, rolling sounds as a skateboarder whizzed past on the sidewalk.
“Judge Carter Blaire has been reported missing,” Bennett said from behind her as he caught up. “He’s been gone four days now.”
Dazzler slowly turned to look over her shoulder at him.
“Let me brief you,” he said, motioning to the SUV. “If you still want to walk away at the end of it, so be it. Just hear me out.”
She rolled her blades around to face him. “You’re lying. It’s a trap.”
He reached into his jacket, and she tensed, raising her hands, ready to light him up like the Fourth of July.
“Whoa!” he said, holding his hand out peacefully. “I’m just getting my phone to show you something.”
“Slow moves or you fry,” she said.
He pulled out his phone and stepped toward her, bringing something up on the screen. “His secretary reported him missing. This is her call.” He held the phone out and played the recording to her.
“This is the Manhattan Police Department,” a woman’s voice said. “How may we assist your call?”
“Hello, I need to report a missing person, please.” Dazzler recognized the voice as her father’s long-time assistant, Maria. She’d often cared for Dazzler as a child when she’d been left waiting at her father’s office while he finished meetings. Knowing her mother was gone, Maria had always been kind to Dazzler. “It’s Judge Carter Blaire,” Maria’s voice warbled on the recording. “He hasn’t shown for work, and he’s not answering his calls. I went by his house, and no one is home. This is not like him at all. I’m worried. Very worried.”
Bennett stopped the recording and put his phone away. “Just hear me out,” he said calmly. “That’s all I’m asking.”
Dazzler’s mind raced. Her shoulders were tense, her breathing rapid, her palms sweating. That was definitely Maria’s voice, so this wasn’t a S.H.I.E.L.D. trick. Could her father really be missing?
A group of young people walked past chatting and laughing. One of them recognized her and called out, “Hey, Dazzler! Great show!”
The group all smiled and chimed in with, “Yeah!” and, “Rockin’.” Dazzler pasted on a smile and waved a thank you to them as they passed.
“We can’t talk out here on the street,” Bennett said, eyeing the group, then motioning to the SUV again. “Please.”
Dazzler studied the idling SUV. Her whole body buzzed with stored light energy, as though it zapped from conduit to conduit, ready for anything. Bennett studied her, noticing the sparks of light glittering beneath her skin.
“I just want to talk. That’s all,” Bennett said. “I mean you no harm.”
Dazzler stared at him. He sounded genuine, but that meant nothing. She’d trusted people like him before and she’d paid the price for it. A price that came with nightmares, anxiety, and a whole lot of mistrust.
Still… her father was missing. She had to know more.
“Make any sudden moves,” she said threateningly, “and I will mean you harm. Understand?”
Bennett nodded. “Understood.”
He moved slowly back to the SUV, where the back door remained ajar. He climbed inside. As she carefully neared the door, she peered inside to see a modified layout: two long seats faced each other, with a TV screen positioned at one end. Bennett was alone, aside from the driver up front, and it made her feel a little better.
She took one last look around the Manhattan streets, then climbed inside.